


Sleep is for the mind to rest

by mckvch (RaiseYourVoice)



Category: Playboy Cops
Genre: Can be seen as Pre-Slash, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death (kind of), Nightmares, Post-Canon, or just friendship - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 16:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15561900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaiseYourVoice/pseuds/mckvch
Summary: “What's up with you? Quit making such noise in the middle of the night.”Even with the quite in the room, Lincoln hadn't noticed that the door had been opened and none other than Michael himself was leaning in the doorway, looking sleep-ruffled and blinking at him with bleary eyes from just having woken up as well. Lincoln felt his lip tug into his usual soft smile, expression apologetic and slightly guilty for having awoken his friend. His mind was still shaken but seeing Michael, alive and his usual easily irritated-self, it made a wave of relief wash through his body.





	Sleep is for the mind to rest

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this like...ten years ago? Dug it up again and decided to re-write it because my English was embarrassingly terrible back then but I still want this up here because it's one of my favourite movies (if not my favourite since I've watched it more often than anything else) and I can only recommend watching it if you're into Chinese cop movies :D
> 
> The German title of the movie is "Bad Boys Hong Kong" which is pretty ridiculous if you ask me. Though the English title sounds like it's something different from what it actually is as well.

A low, choked off scream left Lincoln's lips when he jerked awake from yet another nightmare. They haunted him every other night. Dream of Michael, pierced by this metal bar in the wall, his expression helpless and so incredibly anxious while he looked up at Lincoln. Michael always had a snarky remark ready, his cocky attitude on display at most times, but when he had sat there on the ground, slowly bleeding out with the colour draining from his face at an alarming speed, he had looked so vulnerable and uncharacteristically terrified.

In his dreams, Lincoln also saw himself from a third person perspective a lot of the time—how he slid down the wall next to Michael who dropped his head against Lincoln's shoulder right away, heavily leaning into him so that the shaking of his weakening body was undeniable. He would never forget about the single tear that made its way down Michael's cheek when he was unable to resist the darkness of unconsciousness any longer and his eyes finally fell close.

This dream haunted him every night but in his dreams, Michael never opened his eyes again, he always bled out and died in that dirty, dimly lit hallway, taking a piece of Lincoln with him every time the life left his body who could never do anything but watch his only friend die.

Sometimes he even woke up crying because the pain of watching Michael die night after night was just too much, left him shaky and out of breath. He had never felt as helpless as he had during the agonizing wait for the ambulance that day. The ambulance that had barely arrived in time to save Michael.

“What's up with you? Quit making such noise in the middle of the night.”

Even with the quite in the room, Lincoln hadn't noticed that the door had been opened and none other than Michael himself was leaning in the doorway, looking sleep-ruffled and blinking at him with bleary eyes from just having woken up as well. Lincoln felt his lip tug into his usual soft smile, expression apologetic and slightly guilty for having awoken his friend. His mind was still shaken but seeing Michael, alive and his usual easily irritated-self, it made a wave of relief wash through his body.

Of course, Lincoln knew that Michael hadn't actually died that day but the dreams sometimes felt too real and it was always a calming reminder to see his friend was still with him—that Michael was still the little shit he had been from the very first time they had met.

“I don't choose to have nightmares, you know,” Lincoln pointed out a little belatedly, carding his fingers through his mussed up hair before dropping his hand back into his blanket-covered lap.

His reply sounded a lot calmer than Lincoln felt, even though there was still a hint of shakiness that he couldn’t even feel embarrassed about. All he cared about was the fact that he never had to bury his colleague and friend after that terrible incident.

Michael frowned a little about his words and pushed away from the doorway to properly enter the room, only coming to a stop right next to the bed while his attentive eyes seemed to scrutinise Lincoln who knew he probably looked pale and spooked.

“I don’t get why people let themselves get affected by some stupid dreams like this. Why does something that’s not real have such a great effect? In my opinion, nightmares are just the result of overthinking probably irrelevant stuff,” Michael stated matter of factly, his expression carefully blank but he didn’t manage to hide the hint of worry in his eyes as well. He always tried to appear bored and disinterested but Lincoln had long since learned to see right through that act.

“Sleep is for the mind to rest,” he added as if it was that simple to have a peaceful sleep and Lincoln, despite still feeling off-kilter, couldn’t stop himself from snorting in amusement at the ridiculous statement. Michael had always been quite heavy-handed, almost clumsy, when it came to dealing with emotional situations and it led to him being misunderstood more often than not.

“I know but I can’t exactly influence the things I dream about. I’d prefer to have a good night's rest,” Lincoln pointed out with a soft huff and an added eye roll to get his point across.

While he was used to keeping up a wall of his own, not that unlike Michael, around most people, it was almost scarily easy to just be himself with the other man. Ironically enough, Michael seemed to be one of the only people who would just listen to him and not laugh at his partly irrational fears. Sure, his replies could be rather crude but Michael always listened and didn’t treat Lincoln like something fragile for whatever he was struggling with.

In his own way, Michael was a surprisingly caring and mindful person, he only struggled with showing it properly due to too many bad experiences with people so he had gotten used to hiding his true self away in order to protect himself from getting hurt again.

“Have you tried?”

The question took Lincoln by surprise and he blinked up at the other man who was still standing next to his bed, arms crossed in front of his chest and expression a stubborn almost-pout that caused the corner of Lincoln’s mouth to twitch. Michael always failed to seem completely unaffected, no matter how hard he tried and it was oddly endearing to see the other man like this—to know he cared about Lincoln’s wellbeing but his obvious refusal to openly admitting to that fact.

“How would I even try to influence my dreams?” He asked in return, curious what Michael had in mind or if he had just blurted out the first question that had popped into his mind.

“I don’t know.” The other shrugged and apparently he hadn’t thought about anything in particular. “You could try talking about what bothers you? You always go on about how it’s supposed to help to talk about feelings and all that but you always shy away from it yourself.”

That definitely took Lincoln by surprise and he gaped at his friend for a moment, unable to believe that Michael was the one to suggest talking about feelings. It was usually the other way around, Lincoln poking at the other to get him to open up.

“You almost died.” The words left his mouth before he was able to stop them and his gaze dropped to his hands in his lap, fingers now tightly intertwined to keep them from twitching nervously. These three words were enough to make Lincoln feel oddly exposed and vulnerable but, technically, there was no reason for him to deny that Michael almost dying on him hadn’t affected him pretty badly.

“You’re having nightmares because of me?”

Of course, Michael caught on to the insinuation of Lincoln’s simple statement right away because he was way smarter than a lot of their colleagues gave him credit for. There was so much surprise in his words that it pained Lincoln—he would never get over the fact that Michael so convinced about his own unimportance to other people.

Silence settled over them for a moment, Michael’s surprisingly softly spoken question lingering between them for what felt like minutes when it was only a few heartbeats.

“I know, it’s hard to believe, right?” Lincoln replied almost teasingly but his lips curved up into what surely was a way too soft smile as if saying,  _ of course, you dummy _ .

Michael raised his eyebrows at him and shook his head but his expression changed from carefully worried into that of mild amusement and something else that Lincoln couldn’t quite place but he liked the expression nonetheless. It made Michael look soft and Lincoln was pretty sure few people had ever seen this side of the other man.

“I know it’s already been over two months,” Lincoln said, suddenly feeling the need to finally talk about almost losing Michael as if some gate had been opened in his mind and forced him to spill the things that had been running in his mind in circles ever since it had happened, “but I just can’t seem to forget about it. I see you dying over and over again in my dreams and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Another beat of silence drew out between them and Lincoln refused to look up to the other man, not knowing what kind of expression he would be met with. Michael probably thought he was being ridiculous but he couldn’t exactly change the fact that he had been terrified by almost losing a person that close to him.

“I’m still very much alive,” Michael finally broke the silence and Lincoln heard the ruffling of clothes before the mattress dipped a little under the added weight of another body. Instead of just sitting down at the corner, Michael simply scooted onto the bed and settled into a cross-legged position after nudging Lincoln’s own legs aside to make room for himself.

Lincoln blinked in confusion when Michael suddenly raised a hand, simply hoovering it palm-up between them as if he was offering a clumsy handshake. He stared at the offered hand for a moment before tentatively placing his own palm in Michael’s, feeling the strong, warm fingers curl around his without hesitation.

“I’m still alive,” Michael repeated at a lower volume and when Lincoln did look up again, he was taken aback by the determination in the other’s beautiful eyes. “Yes, I almost died that day but I didn’t and I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.”

The words were unexpectedly soothing and Lincoln felt his shoulders relax as if the simple statement had pressed some kind of button in his mind, releasing all the tension he had still been holding in his body.

“ _ Thank you _ .”

The words were more of a breath than anything else, only meant for Michael’s ears who sent the smallest, softest smile back to Lincoln and lightly squeezed his fingers before breaking the contact again and getting up from the bed.

“Try to go back to sleep and don’t wake me up again!” Michael stated, back to his crude attitude but his expression was still warm and open.

“I’ll try my best,” Lincoln chuckled and beamed at the other man, unable to help himself. “Sleep well, Michael.”

The other man actually flipped him off at that and surely muttered some profanity under his breath when he left the room, followed by Lincoln’s amused chuckle.

No matter how hard Michael tried to be a bad boy and live up to his admittedly stupid reputation as the “playboy cop”, he would never manage to fool Lincoln for a second.


End file.
